Alexandersmap

    Category: Relationships

    • There ‘neath the Oak’s Bough

      Now there’s a beautiful river in the valley ahead
      There ‘neath the oak’s bough soon we will be wed
      Should we lose each other in the shadow of the evening trees
      I’ll wait for you
      And should I fall behind
      Wait for me
      — Bruce Springsteen, If I Should Fall Behind

      “The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter.” — J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone

      The song If I Should Fall Behind is forever a part of my identity, not just because it was our wedding song once upon a time, but because we’ve used it as our guiding principle. In this way, I wonder sometimes if the song chose us, rather than us choosing the song. It’s always been there in the background, whispering just how to keep this thing going year-after-year.

      Relationships are built on patience and each person carrying their share of the load. Sometimes one person carries more than the other, but over time it just seems to even out. There’s no score-keeping in a healthy marriage anyway, and the sooner you realize that the sooner you get to the serious work of foundation-building. Foundations matter a great deal in happy homes.

      Time is a bear that throws all kinds of bitter twists into an otherwise magical life. We get distracted by the madness of the world and spend more time than we ought to focused on a transactional life of people and titles and things that ultimately don’t matter as much as the person you committed a lifetime to. But when both of you carry on, patient and present, everything else falls by the wayside.

      We built a home five years after that wedding on a plot of land deep in the valley with a large oak tree in the front yard and another out in back. Neither of us thought of the line in the song, we just liked the oak trees and the feel of the land they grew on. We’ve called that spot in the valley ‘neath the oak’s bough home ever since. It’s funny how things work out just like a song when you put the work in to make it so.

    • A Good Long Time

      “Drink without getting drunk
      Love without suffering jealousy
      Eat without overindulging
      Never argue
      And once in a while, with great discretion, misbehave”
      ― Dan Buettner, Thrive: Finding Happiness the Blue Zones Way

      This world may just be a complicated mess. This world may be a miracle of experience and wonder. We skate between the two hoping to hold our optimal line as long as possible. The trick, I should think, is to lean into miracle and wonder lest we stumble into a complicated mess. We all step in it now and then, but a good life begins with the direction we lean.

      Inevitably, we settle into a life that works for us. Sure, “settle” may sound like a compromise, and naturally there’s compromise in every happy life, but settle in this context meaning to realize over time that this is what you’ve wanted all along. The rhythm suits you. In rowing you settle into a steady state that you can maintain for the duration of the race, with a few high cadence sprints mixed in strategically. Life is a lot like this.

      Some people never find that rhythm, and the dance feels a bit off-kilter for them. This is a clear sign that finding another dance club is essential. If the music and fellow dancers aren’t for you, why stay? A lifetime in the wrong beat with two left feet is no way to live. Turn the beat around, as they say (I’ve just betrayed myself as a punny uncle).

      Digging into the lifestyles of people that live a long life, as Buettner does, you begin to see that the people who live best and sometimes the longest are those who simply fall into the right rhythm. Eat well, walk, lean into the company of life-minded people with whom you can share a story and a laugh with. Simple, really. And don’t you think that life should be less complicated anyway?

      At the risk of introducing one-too-many analogies into a single blog post, allow me just one more: The fire that burns the longest is fueled by substance. Oak burns longer than pine, which in turn burns longer than kindling. When we build our lives around substance and meaning, we too can burn a good long time. That’s the thing, isn’t it? To not just live a long life, but a good life. That’s not settling at all—that’s something we reach for and hold onto for dear life.

    • Letting Go

      To live in this world
      you must be able
      to do three things:
      to love what is mortal;
      to hold it
      against your bones knowing
      your own life depends on it;
      and, when the time comes to let it go,
      to let it go.
      — Mary Oliver, In Blackwater Woods

      This is the time of year when the leaves release from the trees and drift in the breeze in waves, becoming a force of nature in their return to the earth. It’s easy to see them as alive—characters in their freedom from the branches that once held them. The tree lets them go in their time, and releases their burden that they may survive another winter season.

      Humans hold on to their own things. Homes full of stuff, people who sap our vitality, positions of honor that sap our soul. Why do we hold so tightly to things that, deep down, we know must be released?

      Identity. We begin to believe that we are that person with that job, or the one who raises those children. For awhile we may be the soccer parent or the blogger, the hiker or sailor or the life of the party. Perhaps even that crazy uncle who says the most ridiculous things and prods nieces and nephews out of their shells. Identity is a tricky thing indeed. We are grounded in it, and let it drive our every decision.

      Human beings always cling to things.
      Practice begins when you stop clinging.
      — Awa Kenzo, Zen Bow, Zen Arrow

      Those trees offer a lesson, don’t they? The tree is rooted in place, reaching for the sky, making the most of whatever season it happens to be in. The leaves are not the tree, but a part of it, nurtured in one season and released in another. Everything has its time. No, the leaves aren’t the tree at all, simply a part of it. It’s the roots that matter far more for the tree to survive.

      What are we rooted in? What do we hold on to far longer than we should? What do we need to let go of to survive another winter and thrive when the season changes in our favor? When the time comes, let go.

    • The Cover of October Skies

      Well, it’s a marvelous night for a moondance
      With the stars up above in your eyes
      A fantabulous night to make romance
      ‘Neath the cover of October skies
      And all the leaves on the trees are falling
      To the sound of the breezes that blow
      You know I’m tryin’ to please to the calling
      Of your heartstrings that play soft and low
      You know the night’s magic seems to whisper and hush
      You know the soft moonlight seems to shine in your blush
      Can I just have one more moondance with you, my love?
      — Van Morrison, Moondance

      It’s no coincidence that we are drawn outdoors in October. In New Hampshire, the foliage is strikingly beautiful on some trees this year, while others have barely begun to turn. Strange what a year of near-constant rain can do to a tree’s inclination to dress up for the party. But the show must go on nonetheless, stragglers will inevitably catch up in their time. For it’s all about the shrinking days now. If leaves are the flowers of autumn, then they’re more like the blossoms of a fruit tree, announcing their time in the sun is over with a brilliant dance in the breeze on their return to the earth. Don’t we owe it to them to bear witness?

      I dwell in such things. I have a photographers eye and a philosopher’s mind, and though perhaps neither may ever be fully realized in production each sneaks out now and again. We each aspire to mastery, don’t we? Mostly I hear the call to bring the beautiful to light. It falls on people like us to keep reminding the world that it’s worth paying attention to the magic now and then in our own shrinking days.

      To reach our potential we must be attentive to every detail, and we must put ourselves in the mix. On a crisp Sunday afternoon I spent time at a four-year-old’s birthday party, gingerly holding her infant second cousin like a football, to celebrate the next generation tasked with realizing a brighter future. I spent time at a quiet graveyard, reminding those who couldn’t quite realize a full life of their own that they aren’t forgotten. That they did enough. The two sides of the spectrum dancing under the cover of the same brilliant October sky. Some leaves shine golden in their time, some have arrived back to earth. We are the witnesses to each, biding our time on a quest for mastery.

    • Somethings

      “Recall a simple and ancient truth: the subject of knowledge cannot exist independently from the object of knowledge. To see is to see something. To hear is to hear something. To be angry is to be angry over something. Hope is hope for something. Thinking is thinking about something. When the object of knowledge (the something) is not present, there can be no subject of knowledge.” — Thich Nhat Hanh, The Miracle of Mindfulness

      We are each connected to the world in big ways and small. The things we focus on, our somethings, are the essence of that connection. When we become aware of these connections we immediately see our place in the world differently. We are not independent observers to the world, we are very much a part of it.

      So when we inevitably ignore our mother’s well-meaning advice and talk to strangers, is it a voyage of discovery or do we put up walls? Walls come in many forms, from being reserved to working to be overly clever. To be genuine and open is to welcome connection. It’s our gateway to discovery.

      My primary purpose in life is to bridge the gap between the known and the unknown. That bridge is built on human connections—trusted relationships built one genuine and open connection at a time. That connection is substantial, and indeed means something. After all, it’s the stuff of life.

    • Stable Centers

      “Continue to progress, do not stagnate. Consider a spinning top. It moves around a stable center. It spins and spins until it finally falls over, exhausted” — Awa Kenzo, Zen Bow, Zen Arrow

      In this blog I refer a lot to Stephen Covey’s concept of pushing the flywheel, and having momentum in our lives through rigid positive habits. The thing about momentum we sometimes forget is that it’s not about the spinning, though surely action is essential, but about the stable center. We may spin like a whirling dervish, but without a stable center we quickly spiral out of control. Like centrifugal force, positive momentum abhors instability.

      We see this in people, companies and political parties that have lost the thing that made them stable. Sports teams may peak at the level of their superstars, but unravel over the course of a season without strong leadership from the role players that are the true foundation of a team. We call them the glue that holds a team together, or lifts it up when things go poorly. It’s those people in an organization who exemplify how things ought to be done and lead by example.

      That stable center in an individual is our morality and sense of purpose. It’s our why, to borrow from Simon Sinek. When we have this in our lives, we do the work that must be done, we don’t skip over the little things that mean a lot, we are proactive in our days, and we have agency over our lives. Why do we get up every day to start anew? It’s often the people in our lives we hold most dear, isn’t it? Family and friends offer community and a sense of place. Teams, congregations and great company cultures do this as well. We need something bigger than ourselves to make our lives larger and more meaningful. When we have it we feel complete, when we don’t we crave it and desperately seek it out.

      Stable centers are usually obvious to us when we have them in our lives. We know what centers us, because our life revolves around these why’s. We are capable of spinning ourselves into greater and greater orbits when our footing is solid. Finding stable centers thus becomes as essential to our growth as establishing good habits and surrounding ourselves with the right people. In fact, when we do these things, we find that we ourselves become a stable center for others. And isn’t that a magical feeling?

    • My Love and I

      The water is wide, I can’t cross o’er
      And neither do I have wings to fly
      Give me a boat, carry two
      And both shall row
      My love and I
      — Pete Seeger, The Water is Wide

      There’s a marriage occurring in the family this weekend, and it got me thinking about my own. I’m approaching three decades together, which makes us uniquely qualified to talk about long-term relationships, I suppose. But then I look at my in-laws, married for 61 years and counting, through the epic highs and devastating lows that a couple of humans can experience together. It makes me wonder about the years to follow, having ridden that roller coaster along with them for almost half of their marriage. As my favorite Navy pilot used to say, “I’ve seen the future and I don’t like it”. But we can still make the most of it. Amor fati.

      Life’s challenges are best endured together. We are each distracted and busy, annoyed at times with the world and with each other, but we return to each other always. A marriage can be seen as a boat that rides out the storms and keeps a relationship alive. Or you can look at it as a contract between two able-bodied people who agree to stick it out together when one or both are not so able-bodied anymore. We generally meet our mate when we’re at our peak fitness level and full of potential. They see that potential and bet on us, as we do with them. Sometimes that bet works out really well, and sometimes it doesn’t. But the thing about humans is that we’re at our best when we invest ourselves in others. The load is heavy enough as it is. Better to carry it together.

      Now everyone dreams of love lasting and true
      Oh but you and I know what this world can do
      So let’s make our steps clear that the other may see
      And I’ll wait for you, and if I should fall behind wait for me
      — Bruce Springsteen, If I Should Fall Behind

      We forget sometimes, in our focus on meeting the moment, that we are life partners until the end. Life reminds us of our fragility, in body and in spirit. We lift each other up or drag each other down, and this becomes habituated. Simply put, the dynamic in a relationship becomes our normal. Best to have a partner that lifts with us, rather than drag us down constantly. I’m blessed with one of those. I hope you are or will be too.

      So how does a marriage endure? There’s no secret, really. It’s all the things you’d expect: patience and love, listening and lingering in moments together, appreciating the best and accepting the less-than-best about each other. But I think it’s mostly about feeling gratitude for having found someone willing to row that boat with you across the wide water. Someone who will wait for us to catch up to where we ought to be, as we will for them when they fall a step behind (knowing deep down it’s usually us falling behind). There are no secrets to long relationships, there’s only the commitment to seeing it through.

    • A Few More Times

      So before we end
      And then begin
      We’ll drink a toast to how it’s been
      A few more hours to be complete
      A few more nights on satin sheets
      A few more times that I can say
      I’ve loved these days
      — Billy Joel, I’ve Loved These Days

      When we love the days we’re passing through, it becomes easy to believe that they’ll always be just as they have been. But we know this to be untrue. We see the changes in those around us, and in ourselves. Life is about the passing from these days to whatever will be next, and so on and on, until we too pass. This is our song, and the band will one day play on without us. So it goes.

      It occurred to me that I haven’t spoken to two people recently who were part of every waking moment of my life when they were growing up. A few text messages, a brief “hello, I’m thinking of you” now and again. We all get busy: our children move away to build their lives, our parents and siblings and closest friends move across the dance floor and out of sight, coworkers change jobs or retire, and even our favorite barista or waitress moves on to other things. Life is change.

      A puppy came into my life, changing my world for the better in most ways, but changing my days profoundly. There are things that must be done when you have a young one in the house. There are things you must consider when you go out for any amount of time. There are few things more disruptive than this, yet so fulfilling at the same time. Puppies, like children, fill empty spaces and time in chaotic and beautiful ways.

      This week we finished a bathroom renovation that took entirely too long to wrap up. It became an ongoing joke that the two-week project might become a two-year project. Other than adding a puppy or baby to your life, a home renovation project is one of the more disruptive ways to flip your routine upside down. This summer we managed to do two of those change agents at the same time. No wonder it feels at times like I’ve lost my bearings.

      But just like that, the puppy is settling in, the renovation is done, and summer is over. We blink and we miss it. So don’t blink if you can help it. Yes, I’ve loved these days, but don’t they just fly right by?

    • Beyond Meaning

      “Life has no meaning; it cannot have meaning because meaning is a formula; meaning is something that makes sense to the mind. Every time you make sense out of reality, you bump into something that destroys the sense you made. Meaning is only found when you go beyond meaning. Life only makes sense when you perceive it as mystery and it makes no sense to the conceptualizing mind.” — Anthony De Mello, Awareness

      How we process things in our lives determines how happy we are with the sum of it. Writing is an essential way to process it for me. Deep reading does wonders for me too. But I don’t use activity for processing. Perhaps you’ve found the secret to multitasking activity and combined it with processing, if so kudos, but for me it’s never really worked. There’s something to be said for long walks in the woods or an empty beach, but such activities help empty my restless mind, these things rarely help me process anything important.

      And so I write, and read, and singularly process what I can. And share it in this blog and other communication threads for those inclined to follow the breadcrumbs. So maybe my someday great-grandchildren can sort out who this character was in his day. And maybe you, dear reader, somewhere in this world and in your time, may find something insightful too. Or maybe it gets trapped forever in the anonymous amber of the Internet. The things we ponder in this world…

      The thing is, if life has no meaning, we waste time trying to find it. We ought to just live, and fill that lifetime with purpose and wonder and love. That’s something beyond “the meaning of life”, yet it’s meaningful to the living. That’s you and me and some imagined reader of ancient blogs “someday, when”. We are here, writing our verse, as best we can. So make it compelling. Make it fun. Make it a story worth reading about. The rest will take care of itself.

    • Significance Transcends

      “History is, above all else, the creation and recording of that heritage; progress is its increasing abundance, preservation, transmission, and use. To those of us who study history not merely as a warning reminder of man’s follies and crimes, but also as an encouraging remembrance of generative souls, the past ceases to be a depressing chamber of horrors, it becomes a celestial city, a spacious country of the mind, wherein a thousand saints, statesmen, inventors, scientists, poets, artists, musicians, loves, and philosophers still live and speak, teach and carve and sing. The historian will not mourn because he can see no meaning in human existence except that which man puts into it; let it be our pride that we ourselves may put meaning into our lives, and sometimes a significance that transcends death. If a man is fortunate he will, before he dies, gather up as much as he can of his civilized heritage and transmit it to his children. And to his final breath he will be grateful for this inexhaustible legacy, knowing that it is our nourishing mother and lasting life.” — Will and Ariel Durant, The Lessons of History

      We are the sum of all that has come before us, with a mission to process and pass along this wealth of knowledge and contribution to future generations. When we talk about the Great Conversation, we rightly wonder what our own legacy might be. We must feel the urgency to contribute. We must lean into Walt Whitman’s response to this very question: That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse. Walt wasn’t just writing prose, he was struggling with the same things we struggle with, with fewer notifications and cat videos. We’re simply links in the chain, anchored to the work of those who came before us.

      Lately I’ve seen the momentum that comes from steadily pushing the flywheel for years. The writing is easier, conversations seem more productive and meaningful, and a deeper and richer connection to the world has led to growth and understanding. We simply begin to realize that we’ll never have it all figured out, we cannot live forever and so we’ll run out of time before we grasp everything we hoped we might, and with the startling realization that our significance in the universe isn’t all that big. Yet we may still transcend this lifetime anyway, simply by being actively engaged in our time.

      When we feel the connection to the countless generative souls who made us who we are, we may feel compelled to rise to the occasion of our lifetime as well. There is magic in showing up every day and doing the work. Our verse is ours alone. Just as we thrill at discovering a magical verse from a distant voice, our own verse may one day delight a future treasure hunter. Doesn’t it deserve its moment in the sun?